


Oddment

by Zai42



Series: Gore/Kinktober Prompts [28]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Canonical Character Death, Comes Back Wrong, Depending on your perspective, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Murder, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:40:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Hope isn't the same without Breekon.Prompt: Extra Parts





	Oddment

Hope wasn't used to being alone. He wasn't certain he was ever intended to be alone, if he had been considered capable or if he had been made a half of a whole, if he were not alone so much as he was _diminished,_ if the snarling hunter hadn't killed a companion so much as she had ripped off some essential body part and changed his general silhouette.

  
He gathered what he could of Breekon: strips of flesh, shards of plastic, one staring glass eye. (This last one he touched with tenderness, tucked it into a breast pocket, near what he thought was his heart.) The others were...away. Not gone, Hope didn't think, though perhaps they would not be who they had been, if they were to meet again. He couldn't ask their help. It was a shame; Nikola had such a talent for what he was trying to do.

  
The casket felt heavier without Breekon. It had never been a burden, before; now Hope dragged it along and it took effort. Or perhaps it wasn't the casket that was heavy--perhaps it was the little bundle of what remained of Breekon, neatly tied up and resting on the splintered wood.

  
The Boneturner handled Breekon with more care than Hope had been expecting. "This all?" he asked. Hope reached into his pocket, pulled out the eye and swiped a thumb over the glass surface, brushing away dust. He held it out wordlessly, and the Boneturner cupped it in his palm. "Okay. I can help. You're gonna need to bring me some extra parts, though."

  
That was easily accomplished. Breekon or no, Hope remained a monster. He considered finding the Archivist and finally peeling him, as vengeance for the mess he'd made; dipping his hands into his unresisting torso and plucking him apart, taking what he wanted and leaving the rest tucked neatly into bed. But no, too much trouble, and Hope was alone, now, split in half, and as much as he would have liked to do the same to the Archivist (take his eyes, for Nikola; his stomach, for Sarah; his heart, for Breekon), there was, as always, too much watching him.

  
He found a pretty young couple walking in the park, hand in hand, and took what he needed from them. (He left their hands entwined, sitting on a park bench. It would make the news, later.)

  
The thing the Boneturner made didn't quite look like Breekon, just a little off, skin a bit of a different shade, but Hope didn't complain. He stared at it, lying cold and insensate, mismatched eyes half-lidded.

  
"Wanna wake him with a kiss?" the Boneturner asked, then huffed when Hope only looked at him, expression flat. "Fine. Just remember our deal." And he left, leaving Hope alone with the thing that would be Breekon.

  
Hope waited, some interminable amount of time that he didn't bother measuring. There was no one moment when the thing became Breekon, it just happened between one blink and the next, and Hope moved for the first time, sitting up straighter.

  
Breekon stretched, wrenched at his neck until it crackled. When he turned, Hope's fingerprint on one eye caught the light.

  
"All right?" Hope asked.

  
Breekon blinked at him, cleared away the fingerprint. He stood, walked in circles until he could do it without stumbling, then took his place at the casket's side, half lifting it and gazing blankly ahead, not speaking, waiting for Hope.

  
"Breekon," said Hope. He didn't remember this, the moments when he existed for the first time; didn't remember a time when he was raw and new, first setting his sight on the world. Breekon didn't reply. Hope sighed, and shuffled forward to lift his side of the casket. "Glad you're back, anyway," he said.

  
There was no answer, and they slipped wordlessly out into the cold night.

**Author's Note:**

> Does it count as a fix-it fic if you've just made everything worse


End file.
